


It wasn’t planned.

by jollytortoise



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Combeferre is a mum, Courfeyrac is done with their shit, Crack, Hospitals, Swearing, Weird accidents, im not sure, or is it blood?, this was honestly just for a joke, tomato sauce - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 15:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13390665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jollytortoise/pseuds/jollytortoise
Summary: Enjolras was having a good day, all he needed to do was review his Poli Sci paper and rewrite the ending.Grantaire was not having a good day, his last bottle of red paint was gone and he had a project due, it’s 2:00am and he can’t go to the paint store.Obviously tomato sauce could save him? Or maybe that was the sleep deprivation talking-Or how a bottle o’ sauce brings our favourite characters together.





	1. One.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for clicking on this :) hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Unbeta’d. I edit as I go, there hopefully aren’t too many mistakes

Enjolras had been having such a good day.

Such. A. Good. Day.

His morning had started off at the perfect time, no alarms just the pleasantness of waking up and feeling well rested for the first time in months. He had been able to wake up without the threat of a looming Poli Sci Class at 8:45, or a Law lecture at 7:45.

The little coffee shop down the road for once wasn’t being consumed by the hustle of university students, and sleep deprived employees. They even had that perfect organic, raspberry and banana muffin that he loved so much.

And for once in his life, Bossuet had turned up to their study session without crutches or a sling. Enjolras had been beyond proud of his anti-luck, accident prone friend.

Enjolras should’ve known that his day had been too perfect, he bloody knew that he should’ve just left an hour earlier from the lecture hall. Maybe then he would’ve avoided Grantaire and his bottle o’ sauce.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have landed himself in bloody A&E, with a concussion and an ankle that was double its usual size.

*-*

“It’s fine!”

“Dude you literally look like you murdered someone, I can’t even tell if it’s blood or tomato sauce,”

“Says the one running down the stairs trying to unblock a bottle of tomato sauce- who the fuck even does that?”

“It was an emergency!”

“What kind of emergency is tomato sauce? I have a paper due in 9 hours and you’ve fucking landed me in A&E now that’s an emergency!”

“To be fair I landed both of us in A&E.”

“Don’t say it like it’s an achievement. It’s really not.”

Enjolras stared down his dorm neighbour relentlessly, he would not back down from this fight; now with what this little jaunt to A&E was costing him. All he could do was sit and bleed as the seconds ticked away from him, seconds that he could have been using for his Poli Sci paper.

But no. Because he had to live in a fucking dorm full of 19-25 year old idiots. Idiots that ran down the stairs with tomato sauce bottles.

“Grantaire, René Grantaire. Call me R!”

Enjolras looked up from his petulant brooding with a scowl, acknowledging his dorm mates attempt at pleasantries.

“Theodore Enjolras, a pleasure,” Enjolras introduced dryly promptly resuming his brooding, the blood dripping from his head wound running down his face.

“I needed the tomato sauce for an art project okay! I have an art project due this afternoon, and I fucking ran out of red-,” Grantaire blurted out, wincing at the way Enjolras’ face grew a shade stormier.

“So tomato sauce was the obvious choice?”

“Of course.”

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

“What’s new?” Grantaire chuckled, nervously running a hand through his hair while his knee jumped up and down restlessly. “Shouldn’t the doctor have come out by now? Like you’re practically dying right now.”  
  
Enjolras sighed kicking his feet out in front of him, well his singular foot the other foot was preoccupied being sprained. “It’s rush hour right about now, all the paramedics are dragging in the drunks, and the idiots who think knives and cannabis is a good idea.”

“And the idiots who fall down the stairs,” Grantaire mumbled fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“What?” Enjolras asked with a raised eyebrow, looking very desperate for a fight.

Grantaire’s face blanched white, and he quickly buried the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. “Ignore me please, I’m running on insomnia and espresso it’s not a great mix.”

Enjolras made no sound, rightfully keeping his scathing opinions to himself. He eyed his watch again, groaning as he realized that another ten minutes had passed. There was no way he’d get his paper done, a fifth of his grade was laying at the bottom of the steps to hell.

The sound of Enjolras’ phone vibrating, echoed ominously through the waiting room. What little color that had been in Enjolras’ face, quickly vanished. He reluctantly took his phone out of his pocket, wincing as Combeferre’s name glared at him from the screen.

**Philoso _ferre_** -  
Why did a nurse hand me your chart?  
Sent 3:36am

**Philoso _ferre_** -  
What the hell did you do? I’m coming out now don’t you dare move.  
Sent 3:38am.

Enjolras choked on his own saliva, watching his own life flash before his eyes. He was going to die, no question.

“Are you okay?” Grantaire asked, leaning over to peer at Enjolras’ face; a stray, corkscrew curl falling in his eye.

Enjolras liked to think he didn’t make a whimper in his throat, but he did. “Oh- nothing, the doctor will be out soon.”

“ENJOLRAS YOU LOBOTOMISED SHITLARK! DID YOU GET INTO A GODDAMN FIGHT?”

Grantaire’s head snapped up so quickly, he was almost sure he had dislocated it. The shout had come from the lanky doctor standing at the reception desk, and had al list certainly drawn the attention of all five people in the waiting room.

Enjolras hunched his shoulders, taking on the appearance of chatisized child. He raised his gaze slowly, cringing back as he met Combeferre’s smoldering gaze.

Combeferre was the epitome of a mother hen; clucky and well beyond scary. Even in wrinkled navy scrubs, ratty sneakers and askew glasses, he was still a force to be rightfully fearful of..

Combeferre strided over, clipboard grasped tightly in his hand and a scowl fixed firmly on his face. He came to a stop on front of Enjolras’ hunched form and leaned down slowly, surveying his friend with ease, that was all to practiced.

Without a word he glided back to reception, dragged out a wheelchair, wheeled it over to Enjolras and promptly shoved the man into the chair.

“No words- I don’t want to hear anything but silence.” Combeferre said pointedly ignoring the gaping looks of the man at reception, and the two old ladies by the vending machine.

Grantaire chuckled to himself as he watched the doctor wheel Enjolras away. He picked up his bottle of tomato sauce and followed after the pair. 

 

 

 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combeferre restrains himself from whacking Enjolras with his own crutch.  
> Courfeyrac questions his reasons for coming down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter done! The short lived crackfic has reached its end.  
> Again it’s unbeta’d, I edit as I go so it should be alright.
> 
> Also in reference to Grantaire’s Bachelor of Arts, I’m basing it off of how it’s done in New Zealand Universities...considering that’s the only way I know how. In New Zealand a Bachelor of Arts usually takes 3-4 years, and you take 7 subjects each year. You can major in two subjects for example, history and English, or you can major in one subject and do the rest as extras... I guess they’re minors. I’m not sure how a Bachelor of Arts is done elsewhere, but here ya go.

Combeferre liked to think he was patient, beyond patient, especially when he had surrounded himself with such idiot friends.

Particularly when those friends fell down stairs, after colliding with other idiots holding sauce bottles. There was no doubt about it, he was required to have the patience of the lord himself. 

Combeferre was also naturally an extremely mothering figure. Slightly paranoid and over protective, but motherly all the same. 

So to say he didn’t whack Enjolras with a clipboard, he would be lying. What could he say? Love hurts.

As the saying goes: punish fairly, and reward equally.

Combeferre mumbled to himself, skimming over the the nurse’s notes. At least someone new what they were doing in the A&E. He wasn’t afraid to say that half the staff on in A&E were practically brainddad by 2am.

He looked up with a sigh, “I refuse to acknowledge the petulant scowl on your face, Enj. Seriously quit it, you’re not five.” 

“You just acknowledged it,” Grantaire pointed out.

Combeferre swivelled around to face the man, reclining back on a blue plastic chair. 

“Shutting up…” Grantaire mumbled shrinking into himself as Combeferre looked at him, all too murderously.

Combeferre pushed his glasses back into place; smiling innocently to himself as he turned back to face the brooding blonde.

“Look I know you don’t want to be here, we just have to wait for your CT results. If it’s all clear, I can take you home okay?” Combeferre said summoning the patience of every saint, to prevent himself from imploding.

“I know that!” Enjolras exclaimed, kicking his feet back and forth off the edge of the bed. “That’s not the problem. The problem is how I’m going to explain this to my professor.”

“What’s the problem?” Combeferre asked, “Just tell him you have a concussion; you don’t have an obligation to expand on the details.”

Enjolras’ eyes bulged out of his head, in a way that would be concerning if he wasn’t Enjolras. “He’s going to ask ‘Ferre! I can’t just go: ‘oh hey, I have a concussion and I can’t turn in the paper,’ and then end the conversation.”

Combeferre raised an eyebrow, “Just say you fell down the stairs, and leave out the other things… it’s really not a big deal.” 

Enjolras cursed to himself, “You don’t know the half of it ‘Ferre; you don’t take Political Science.”

“He’s right you know.” Grantaire mumbled from his spot, picking at his paint chipped nails.

“Oh and you would know?” Combeferre inquired sarcastically.

“Yeah? I’m in his Political Science class.” Grantaire said tilting his head to the side. “Professor Gray really sucks man.”

“But you’re an art major!” Enjolras seethed, “I’ve never seen you in class! How can you be in my class?”

“I’m doing a Bachelor of Arts dumbfuck, I’m majoring in art- Political Science is just another subject I picked as part of the seven.” Grantaire elaborated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Then why aren’t you freaking out over the paper? It’s worth a fifth of our grade!” Enjolras screeched, as if Grantaire not doing his own work personally offended him.

“I did it at the library yesterday, it only took me 2 and a half hours.” Grantaire said offhandedly.

Enjolras practically careened himself off the side of the bed, veins pulsing at his temples and screeching like a banshee. “2 and a half hours?! How is that enough, that paper is a fifth of your grade! You-you complete dickwad-“

“Enough!” Combeferre interrupted, subtly pushing Enjolras back onto the bed, and placing himself in front of Grantaire. “It’s 4 in the morning, let’s calm ourselves down.”

“But-“

“Quiet,” Combeferre ordered, leaving no room for argument. “The nurse will be here any second with your CT results, let’s just wait here quietly. Alright?”

Combeferre obviously received no response. Sometimes he wondered why he even tried. 

Ten minutes later saw Enjolras decked out with a set of crutches, and a bandage wrapped tightly around his head. 

Ten minutes later, Combeferre found himself wanting to bash his own head open, and a need to drown himself in caffeine. Enjolras had never been the most cooperative patient, Combeferre had found himself being reminded of this frequently. None moreso than today.

Grantaire had remained much the same through the entire ordeal, a mix of sarcasm and anxiety. 

*-*

“Why are you still here?” Enjolras said scowling as Grantaire plopped himself down in Combeferre’s car, right next to Enjolras’ sprained ankle.

“I offered him a ride, he lives right next to us Enj, it would be rude to make him walk.” Combeferre lectured as he pulled the car into reverse.

Enjolras made no sound of acknowledgement, maintaining a narrowed gaze at the curly haired man. He didn’t know what to make of him. Grantaire looked rather a mess, but Enjolras wasn’t adverse to it; in fact if he was honest with himself he found the man quite handsome. Grantaire had jawline that other men would kill for, and brown curls that woman would die for.

“Are you done staring?” Grantaire asked interrupting Enjolras’ train of thought. 

“I wasn’t staring!” Enjolras snarled, swivelling his neck around so that he faced the windows instead.

“Sure,” Grantaire chuckled sarcastically.

Enjolras’ cheeks heated up, turning an even darker red a shower he caught Combeferre’s mischievous look through the rearview mirror. He was going to blame it on the painkillers, obviously he wasn’t in his right mind. 

Obviously, if he had been in his right mind he probably would never have taken a second glance at Grantaire.

“We’re here,” Combeferre said suddenly from the front, pulling to a stop in the dorm parking lots.

“Thank flipping fuck,” Enjolras mumbled dazedly, earning a snicker from the man next to him.

Enjolras grabbed his crutches from the floor and flung the side door open, waving off the helping hand that Combeferre gave. He heaved himself up, wincing as his head spun dangerously.

“Hey! Do you know if the elevator is still in use?” Combeferre asked holding the entrance door open ahead of them.

Grabtaire snorted, “I wouldn’t get in that death trap for a grand, we’ll just have to heave him up the stairs between the pair of us.”

Enjolras made an indignant noise, internally screaming at any scenario that involved him being pulled up the stairs by Grantaire. But realistically there was no way in hell he’d make it up four flights of stairs the way he was.

“I could stay with Joly? He only lives on the second floor, it might make things easier.” Enjolras offered half heartedly.

“He would beat you Enjolras, you know what he’s like about injuries.” Combeferre reminded, “We’ll just have to call down Courf, I’m sure between the three of us we can you up the stairs.”

*-*

“SATAN’S NACHOS! are they feeding you rocks or something?” Courfeyrac bit out as Enjolras heaved himself onto his back.

Courfeyrac should have been a bit more polite, with his friend being injured and all.. but it was 4:18 in the morning. He wasn’t in the mood to be heaving surly blondes up four flights, but needs must. They couldn’t subject the injured man to Joly’s mother henning for the next week.

Enjolras grumbled to himself as Courfeyrac’s arms linked under his arms, flailing as he was hiked up on the man’s back into a less dangerous position.

“Okay I’ve got him, Grantaire you can walk behind me and make sure no one dies and Combeferre can walk in front of us, again making sure no one dies- Are y’all sure this is safe?” Courfeyrac asked gazing up at the stairs, with something faintly akin to horror.

“We’ll manage Courf,” Combeferre reassured with hooded eyes.

“More like he’ll manage,” Grantaire muttered darkly to himself, positioning himself behind Courfeyrac and Enjolras. 

*-*

In hind sight, Enjolras most likely would’ve been able to crawl up the stairs in some manor, instead of inflicting the pain on Courfeyrac. But no one had suggested that, so he had kept his mouth shut.

He was starting to regret that decision.

“Oh thank the deities, the door is in sight!” Courfeyrac panted, tightening his hold on Enjolras’ legs.

Enjolras mumbled incoherently against Courfeyrac’s back; dazedly flicking his eyes up to acknowledge the door.

“This is my stop then,” Grantaire said rubbing his neck awkwardly, “I better get in before my roommate freaks.”

“Who’s your roommate-“

“We’re not having this conversation, with this lump on my back- Open the door for the love of God!” Courfeyrac hissed.

Combeferre shook his head wearily, opening the door with a flick of his wrist and watching as Courfeyrac dashed into the room. A shout was heard as Enjolras was unceremoniously dumped onto the couch, Courfeyrac promptly fell onto the couch beside him.

“I live with Bahorel,” Grantaire answered moving to unlock his own door.

“Oh yes, Feuilly talks about him sometime. I’m seriously surprised we didn’t meet any sooner.” Combeferre said with a small smile.

“Mhm yeah,” Grantaire mumbled awkwardly, “I better get in, man.”

Combeferre nodded his head in understanding, “Yeah you better- Hey, if you’re free next week on Wednesday you should come to one of our meetings.”

“Meetings?” Grantaire inquired.

“Ask Bahorel, we’d love to see you there- and honestly anybody who can send Enjolras into a fluster is a friend of mine.” Combeferre joked.

“Even one who sends him to the hospital?” Grantaire wondered.

“Wrong place, wrong time. I would say see you in the morning, but we all know what time it is.” Combeferre sighed, “See you in a few hours I guess?”

“See you,” Grantaire muttered, watching like a deer caught in the headlights as Combeferre softly shut the door behind him.

Grantaire’s night had escalated from 1-100 in a matter of hours, he wasn’t altogether sure whether it was an insomnia induced hallucination, or if it was reality.

Fuck if he knew. 

“Hey shithead I can hear you breathing by the door, get in here!”

Okay no it wasn’t a dream... maybe Grantaire should rock up to one of those meetings then?

He had shared a one of a kind experience with Enjolras and his friends, he wasn’t against hanging out with them again... preferably minus the trip to A&E.

“Grantaire stop being a shithead, it’s too early for this!”

“I’m coming! I’m coming, if I knew you’d miss me this much I never would’ve left.”

“Oh yes I’m always so desperate for you- shut the fucking door behind you!”

“You’re such a vulgar prick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ya’ll.

**Author's Note:**

> Literally none of this is accurate, but it’s crack so sue me. Also Combeferre’s exclamation is taken from a Russell Howard video, kudos to the guy who came up with that insult.
> 
>  
> 
> ——link to the Russell Howard video—-  
> https://youtu.be/_7bcKrZ3n6w


End file.
